


Panem Deathmatch

by chakimcai



Category: Celebrity Deathmatch, Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-05 02:34:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12785070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chakimcai/pseuds/chakimcai





	1. Chapter 1

"Katniss!"

I hear my sister's voice, but I am half asleep and say nothing.

"Katniss!" Prim says, even more urgently, shaking me.

"Huh?" I say.

"I had an awful dream my name was picked," she whimpers pathetically.

"Oh," I say. "Don't worry, Primrose, your name's only in it once. They're not gonna pick you."

She's worried because tomorrow is Reaping Day, when representatives from the Capitol visit the Districts. One boy and one girl from each District, aged 12 to 18, is chosen for the Panem Deathmatch, in which their "likenesses," that is, unflattering caricatures in Play-Doh, fight to the death on television. It's a Capitol favorite; for those of us in the Districts, not so much, but we are all required to watch it anyway. My name is in it a hundred times, because every time I put an entry in, my family gets a year's worth of Twinkies and Pop Rocks. I never let Prim put in additional entries, because, well, no sense giving us diabetes on top of the humiliation that comes with being chosen.

"Go back to sleep, Prim. Everything's going to be all right," I say. I hope that's true.


	2. Chapter 2

Today is Reaping Day. Prim and I kiss Mother goodbye and head out to downtown District 12. Every other teenager in the District is already there. We all hold our breath until the Capitol representative, Effie Trinket, begins her speech. 

"Welcome, everyone, to the 74th annual Panem Deathmatch. And may the odds be ever in your favor," she says in her funny Capitol accent.

She shows us a propaganda film about how the people of the Districts have always laughed at the Capitol citizens for looking like freaks, and so the Panem Deathmatch was set up to teach them what being laughed at feels like. Blah blah blah. We've all heard it before, practically every day of our lives. I'm almost sure this is what has replaced the Pledge of Allegiance, whatever that is.

"And now, ladies first," Effie finally says, putting her hand into a glass bowl. 

Notmenotmenotme, I think. And then the name is called. "Primrose Everdeen."

No. It can't be her. They'd do horrible things to her - make her look like the Swiss Miss girl and double the size of her nose. And then she'd have no chance of winning, because who would believe the Swiss Miss girl could ever kill anyone?

I can't let her be put through that. She's much too sensitive. I quickly call out, "I volunteer! I volunteer! My name is Katniss Everdeen!"

Prim hugs me and runs home; Effie Trinket reaches into a second bowl filled with boys' names. She reads the slip. "Peeta Mellark." The baker's son. Effie takes us to a waiting train, where we meet Haymitch Abernathy, District 12's only Deathmatch winner. Peeta and I weren't born yet when he was in it, but I heard he "won" by drinking rubbing alcohol and breathing on a lit match his opponent was holding, burning her to a crisp. 

Right away I have a question. "How do you win?" I ask him. It's an important question, but he ignores me. Doesn't he know my life depends on this? Well, maybe not my life exactly, but my social standing among my classmates depends on this, and that's an even bigger deal. Frustrated, I snatch his water glass from him and throw it in his face. 

"My eyes!" he screams, running to the men's room. Oops. I guess that wasn't water. He returns moments later, very angry with me. "Don't you know that was my last glass of the good stuff?" he growls. 

Of course I don't know. How could I? I mumble an apology.

"You want to know how to win? Make people like you," Haymitch says. "Not what you were expecting, was it? See, the Tributes are made of Play-Doh and so they can't act on their own. What happens is entirely in the hands of the Animators."

I interrupt. "I know how claymation works. I'm not an idiot."

Haymitch glares at me. " _Anyway,_ the Animators' decisions are often based on other people's opinions, and that's why it's important to make them like you. And right now, sweetheart, you're not off to a real good start."


End file.
